Resting her hands on Jon's shoulders, Anya looked at him with a questioning gaze as he remained staring at her with the same smirk on his face, only growing with each second as he took in her confused stare. She said nothing for a few moments before leaning back, looking Jon in the eye with wonder.

"You're not serious," she said to him and Jon chuckled, knowing full well that he should have expected this response from her. "You don't want to marry me."

"I have never been more serious about anything," Jon told her, standing up, his body brushing against hers as he made the movement and kept her trapped between him and his desk, his hands moving to hold her waist, the fabric bunching up around his fingers. "Half of my family have gone missing. I am riding to take back my home. I want to marry you and make you mine. You're the only good thing in my life, Anya. I want you."

"No," Anya shook her head. "That's the point. If you get your home back then won't you be a Lord? You'll be someone important and me? I'm…I'm nothing but the daughter of a man who bedded his daughters…"

"No," Jon shook his head. "I am a bastard, Anya. I am nothing in Winterfell. Sansa is the trueborn daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. I am a Snow. And you…you are so much more than you think."

"But I'm not," Anya denied. "I am not-"

"-Then you are no more a wildling than I am a bastard," Jon spoke to her.

"A bastard who could rule a kingdom," Anya replied.

Shaking his head, Jon chuckled at that part. "Winterfell is no kingdom, Anya. Just accept that I want to marry you because I love you. I never thought that I would find someone…ladies were for my brothers…I had no one…and now, damn what anyone else might think. I don't care. You're the one I want to be with, Anya."

"And I want to be with you," Anya promised him, moving her hands to hold his shoulders loosely as his grip on her waist increased and he brought her body closer to his.

"Then marry me," he urged her.

"I want to," Anya spoke honestly.

"Then let us marry. Once everything is over…and we are safe and away from here," Jon urged her and Anya struggled to nod her head, despite the fact that she wanted to do nothing but throw her arms around Jon and agree. Yet there was something holding her back and she didn't know what it was. She suspected it was worry.

"Once everything is over," Anya whispered her agreement and finally her smile widened and Jon moved to press his lips to hers, moving his hands to her cheeks and cradling them delicately.

"I love you," Jon declared. "I love you more than anything, Anya. Never doubt that."

Shaking her head, she kissed Jon's cheek and moved to rest her head on his shoulder as his arms went back around her to hold her softly.

"And I love you too."

…..

"She is a wildling."

"No, she is not," Jon responded and looked across to Sansa as they sat in the war chamber alongside Ser Davos, Brienne and Tormund. They had been silent until Jon had declared that he intended to take Anya along with them to the Northern houses.

"She is," Sansa responded. "I know that she might not have been part of the wildling clan, but she comes from beyond the Wall. The Northern houses shall see her as a wildling and if they know that you associate with her then they will want nothing to do with us. They will not help us."

"No," Jon shook his head. "She is more than an acquaintance. She is my betrothed."

There was silence in the room there as Tormund chuckled, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief as Sansa's eyes widened and Davos looked down to the map beneath him, refusing to get into the middle of this debate between the two siblings.

"And once they learn that we intend to ask the wildlings to fight besides us? Do you not think that will put them off anyway, regardless of who I associate with?"

"Betrothed?" Sansa questioned and Jon arched a brow as his sister shook her head slowly. "When did this happen?"

"This morning," Jon answered truthfully.

"You are the son of Ned Stark," Sansa told Jon. "You are more than a bastard-"

"-I am not," Jon interrupted.

"Yes, you are," Sansa protested. "Houses like the Karstarks…Mormont…the Northerners are loyal and suspicious of outsiders. You are no outsider, Jon."

"But they also betrayed the Starks beforehand," Davos declared. "I know little about the North, but I know men and they are the same in all corners of the world. Even the bravest of them would not want to see their wives and daughters skinned for a lost cause."

"The North remembers the Stark name. They will still risk everything for it."

"I don't doubt it, but Jon doesn't have the Stark name," Davos spoke

"No, but I do," Sansa responded. "Jon is every bit as much Ned Stark's son as Ramsay is Roose Bolton's. The Tully's will also back us."

"They have no army," Davos spoke.

"No, my Uncle the Blackfish has taken it back and reformed it," Sansa said, looking to Davos.

"How do you know that?" Jon demanded and Sansa turned to look to him.

"Ramsay received a letter before I escaped," Sansa informed him.

"That's good," Davos nodded. "Stark…Tully…a few more houses…and then we can go up against the Boltons."

"But only if Jon keeps quiet about his betrothal," Sansa said and Jon rolled his eyes before moving around the room to pick up a cup of wine to drain. He took hold of it and placed it to his lips, letting the liquid fall down his throat.

"I am not a Lord of Winterfell," Jon said again.

"But you are trying to get house's support-"

"-With an army of wildlings," Tormund spoke, tiring of this conversation.

"Yes, but those wildlings do not share his bed," Sansa said crudely. "If the Northern houses agree to help Jon then they know that he will take his place as a Lord of Winterfell if there is no Rickon or Bran. They will not help him if they know that he intends to take a wildling as his wife."

"Then I will tell them that I shall not take the title of Lord as Winterfell. You can be Lady of Winterfell instead," Jon told her.

"That is not the point," Sansa shook her head with haste. "You cannot tell them."

"Fine," Jon said, tiring of arguing with Sansa. "I shall not tell them."

Keeping quiet, Sansa nodded before looking to the doorway that was wide open. They had all been so involved in their debate that they had scarcely noted Anya stood in the door. She said nothing as everyone slowly turned around to look to her, but she said nothing, her gaze set on Jon before she turned and rushed from the room, knowing full well that she had heard all that she needed to hear.

"Anya," Jon whispered her name, looking to Sansa with annoyance before following Anya out onto the wooden walkways, brushing past Brothers of the Night Watch as he went.

He finally caught up with her and gripped her arm, holding it tightly before spinning her around. He had been prepared for anger, but he had not been prepared for tears. Her eyes were wet and drops of water moved down her cheeks as she kept silent, only sniffing occasionally.

"She is right," Anya whispered. "You need the Northern houses more than you need me. If they knew you were betrothed to…or even…I don't know…courting me…then they would never support you. They may fight alongside the Free Folk, but they will never accept them…"

"I will be no Lord," Jon told her.

"Don't be silly," Anya said. "You cannot do that…give up Winterfell…you know that, Jon."

"I can if it means that I will not marry you," Jon said. "What would you have me do, Anya?"

"Leave me." Anya answered him honestly. "If Ramsay Bolton knew about me then other Northern Lords will know too. Leave me and go and take Winterfell."

Shaking his head, Jon refused to see that as an option. How could he? He said nothing for a few moments before grabbing hold of Anya by her arms and drawing her body tightly to his. She automatically tried to push him from her, but she knew full well that he was holding too tightly for her to make any movement. Saying nothing for those moments, Anya shook her head.

"I do not want to live with regret again," Jon whispered. "And leaving you behind would be the biggest regret I could make. Let Sansa take Winterfell."

"I cannot ask you to do that for me," Anya told him and Jon shook his head with haste and dared to move and hold her hands inside of his as men avoided them, turning around as soon as they saw them, but Jon struggled to care about what they thought of him.

"You do not need to ask," he informed her.

"But do not lose support because of me," Anya urged him.

"No," Jon said. "I shall not speak of you unless you come up in conversation. Does that please you?"

She nodded slowly in agreement, but struggled to see how Jon would gain support if people knew of her. Taking another moment, she dared to kiss him on the cheek before squeezing his hand slowly. Jon wiped her tears away with his free fingertip, letting it move down her cheek soothingly.

"Then we leave the Wall first thing tomorrow," Jon told her. "And we don't look back."

…..

Anya said nothing for the remainder of the day until she came to find Sansa later in the evening. She had heard that the girl had asked for material to sew; yet no one had taken it to her. She had picked it up on her way back to her chamber and that was how she found herself stood inside Sansa's chamber, placing the material down on the desk in the small room.

"I am sorry," Sansa declared. "About everything that happened this morning. It was nothing against you-"

"-I understand," Anya interrupted.

"No," Sansa shook her head. "I feel terrible."

"You have no need to," Anya said. "Jon will do whatever he can to gain the support of the Northern Lords. You don't need to worry."

"But Jon loves you," Sansa said, still unable to believe what she was saying. "Jon deserves to be happy and if you make him happy then that should not stop you from being together…but…Winterfell…"

"Is your home," Anya finished off. "And Jon will do whatever he can to get your home back."

"Who knows?" Sansa asked, picking the material up as Anya made her way back to the door. "Perhaps Jon will convince the Northern Lords to accept the Free Folk."

Anya said nothing else, only moving towards the door and closing it behind her as she tried to weigh up Sansa Stark.

…..

A/N: Let me know what you think!